Games
by TearsOfShards
Summary: Daikeru. Short drabble about what Takeru's homophobic Mother did when she caught him with Daisuke.


AN: So I was supposed to be studying but this just shot out at me and I felt like I had to write. Enjoy and please review!

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"Can you hear me? Wake up."

There was that voice again. It's always there.

He was the one assigned to me, he never let anyone else near me.

Light blinded my eyes as I struggled to open my heavy lids. It had been a while since I was last awake. The sedatives they injected into my skin knocked me out for a long time. That's what happens when I struggle. They don't like it when I rebel against them.

The pills usually control that but sometimes there are slip ups. They don't like nuisances so they keep them drugged like animals as a swift way to deal with the trash.

That's what I am; litter tossed carelessly away by those that 'loved' me. At least these people took me in, maybe there is a purpose for me after all. If only I complied. I'd be the perfect little guinea pig.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions now."

There was no point in wasting time responding. They would ask their questions. They would conduct their tests. They would examine me and make me jump through hoops. It didn't matter whether or not I consented. There was no free will here, not for their property.

My lifeless eyes stared into the deep abyss of the blue wall behind the intruder. It seemed familiar, that shade. Why hadn't I noticed it before? He used to wear that colour. I remember that jacket with the protuding flames on it.

A small hint of a smile graced my features before sinking under the weight of everything else. Fortunately, the man who spoke earlier didn't notice. He was fiddling with some papers on his clipboard. The two others he brought with him lifted me up and threw me onto the stiff chair that they brought in with them. I suppose my bed wasn't an appropriate place to sit.

I placed my right hand over my left, legs a couple of inches apart and back straight. The others would leave and come back with their equipment and their sryinges. It would go well, if I didn't struggle. If I just let it happen.

The same reductive questions came and went. It was as if he was desperate to hear the same thing again and again. The man in white grew increasingly frustrated the more I didn't play his game.

Games. They used to be fun. We used to play lots of them when we were younger. Daisuke's mother bought him a soccer ball on his fourth birthday. Or maybe it was for another time. Gifts were rewarded for good behaviour but then, he wasn't always the best behaved.

They tell me stories of the boy I was back then, before I became ill. They make me try and remember before I met him. They don't like me remembering him. His name makes them angry and they punish me for it. I learned a long time ago not to say it.

There were days where I longed to have him back, but then the cycle had already begun and within a few years I would be doomed to this life again. Fate cannot be changed.

It was because she didn't like him, Mum hated him. My best friend and lover. He was all I had but she didn't like that. The company I chose to socialise with was indecent and gave impressions to other people that were unsatisfactory to one who lived in family where status was of great importance.

Snap.

She caught us once. We thought we had a few hours alone but she returned early forgetting something. She caught me half naked pressing him into the couch. That was the last I saw of him.

Snap.

She made him go and she told me she was disgusted with me. She brought me here, told me it would make me better and would come get me when she had her son back. Daisuke never came, he never tried.

Snap.

There it was again. The doctor doesn't like it when I space out. A guinea pig must comply with all orders given; there is no time for sentiment or the past. Follow orders. That's my job.

I said yes and no appropriately to his queries and allowed myself to be slightly pleased at my performance's success from the agreeable hmmm's coming from my captor.

He didn't stay with me long. He never did.

He was the only visitor that came to see me. As annoying as his questions and probing were, they were still some form of contact which was so scarce after they destroyed my only friend.

For weeks or maybe months after locking me away, I would sit here huddled in the corner calling out to him while sobbing my heart out. He never responded. He never came.

Mum did, once. She told me that my friends didn't want to know me anymore. They didn't want to be associated with a 'disgusting fag' like me. Mum told me I deserved it for what I did.

I got angry. The pills and the injections and the questions were getting to me. I couldn't handle being trapped in this room.

As time went on, my hope for his return dwindled and dwindled and the realisation that I was really alone hit me.

The silence was unbearable, I needed him. He was always there for me but now there was no one. It drove me over the edge and one night I simply tried to take my own life. They were waiting for that, it seems they wanted me to do it.

The people were happy that I finally acted. They talked amongst each other as if I wasn't there. Their gleeful voices and the scratches of their clipboards drowned out my protests at being forced to continue such a dimming existence.

As expected, they removed all objects that I could use that may cause to become a danger to myself and they increased my pills threefold. The last few claws of my will were receding away.

Fighting had no more purpose so I gave in. They won.


End file.
